1977
by EliseRedding
Summary: There are a series of hate crime murders across LA that are somehow connected to Larry and the year 1977. slight LC.
1. Chapter 1

FIC: 1977

AUTHOR: Elise

RATING: pg13 for language and graphics

GENRE : adventure/case based as well as a historical period piece. charlie/larry towards the end.

NOTES: responses quite necessary. I write more because you all exist out there.

SUMMARY : Larry remembers his worst summer ever... and its coming back to haunt him.

Late July, 1977. Between New York City and Philadelphia. Somewhere.

Larry scratched his full head of hair, before replacing his yankees cap back on. He turned to the driver of the beat up pinto, his friend Marcus McClintock. Larry said, "Aren't you in the least bit excited that a new particle was discovered? I mean, this Upsilon Particle has lead to some very important discoveries!"

Marcus raised his eyebrows, "You know, Whereas I studied physics in undergrad, I'm not terribly excited about some atom that disappears before we can even view it. What's the point of that?"

"It's not an atom-" Larry countered.

"Whatever it is, I'd rather be reading." Marcus pointed out, "Which you should do more often, Curly-cue. I mean, this road trip is an adventure. You've been stuck in the lab for days now."

"I hate that nick name. As for the lab? Weeks, actually, and that's why I agreed. Maybe a hike, or we could visit a museum. I heard there's a park in Philadelphia. Interesting point," Larry said, tapping his index fingers together, a trait he had picked up from his dissertation advisor, "Philadelphia comes from the words-"

Marcus had turned the radio up very loudly. Larry frowned and listened to the report. Son of Sam had struck again. Two people shot in the face. Larry shuddered and turned it off. "Thank goodness we're getting out of the city."

"What? You think good ole Sammy is going to get you?" Marcus said, chuckling.

Larry raised an eyebrow, "No, but it'll be a relief to not be in a town where some psycho is appearing out of no where and taking people's lives. Life is the most fascinating and valuable thing we have."

MArcus shrugged, "I'd rather draw pictures of trees and mountains. Frankly, if it weren't for humans, we'd have a lot more forests. Think of all the polution? And with the elections coming up, it's only going to get worse."

"I like Cuomo." Larry countered, "I met an ex girlfriend of his. Really fascinating girl."

"So fascinating, Mario dumped the girl." Marcus blinked a few times, indicating that he was getting tired. He turned the radio on again and Fleetwood Mac came on.

Larry shrugged, "You know, I bet if you spent some time interacting with people and listening to their points of view, you'd like them a whole lot more."

"Why, so they can get shot by Sam?"

"That's just illogical."

"You've always been an optimist. Besides, I kinda respect this guy. He's a genius." Marcus said, humming softly to Nicks' voice.

"I like to think genius is reserved for those who work in peace, and not murderers."

Marcus shrugged, "He's been running from a squadron of cops for a year now. Who knows when he'll get caught. I doubt he will. Maybe he's a ghost."

"Or perhaps has grasped the transdimensional matter transfer that I've been fiddling around with."

"Of course you're a Feynman fan."

"Hey - He's been helping me with my thesis, and is one of the most incredible men to have walked the planet. Of course, I'm a fan." Larry said, laughing, "although he and my advisor don't get along very well."

Marcus spied a rest stop up ahead. A small diner and some pumps. Perfect. The song changed to Debbie Boone's 'You light up my life' came on. Larry grinned and put it up, bopping his mess of red curls to the song. Marcus, making gagging noises, got a disgusted look on his face. "What're you, a fag?"

Larry's eyebrows knit together. "A what?"

"A fag. I heard it the other day at the show I went to. Means a gay person. I bet you've got that gay cancer... singing along to Debbie Boone. She blows, man."

"You're a real ass sometimes, Marcus. Why're you picking on me?" Larry pointed out.

Marcus pulled over, "Why, you insulted?"

Larry blinked, "What does it matter my sexuality or someone elses? I mean, I like girls and all. We're we talking about Feynman? Who cares if I like Debbie Boone."

Marcus laughed, "That was about eight different thoughts at once, man. Forget it, I was kidding. I just don't want to hang out with fags. You're already a dork."

"I. like. girls." Larry said.

"Want something?" Marcus said, "I'm grabbing some smokes."

Larry shook his head. He was bewildered at how Marcus in one breath could tease him and be making fun of groups of people, and then switch over to something as trivial as drinks. He waited, watching the heat create waves above the ground. He smiled, thinking of why the air seemed to morph. Larry frowned again. He should stick up for himself more often. He was terrified of the world surrounding him currently. Murders happening every day. There was this strange illness that was killing gay men... cancers that chose people based on their sexuality. It was mind boggling, and it didn't really make any sense. There was no genetic basis for it. They recently had the blackout, where Marcus had proudly looted a few stores. Larry had spent the night with candles out, marvelling at a blackened New York City.

He had moved there a year ago to start an internship that would take the place of an entire year in his PhD program. He was working with many physicists. He just happened to be living near Marcus and they struck up a friendship. Larry sighed. Marcus had definitely changed. Larry's mother had said once that the City will change you, for better or worse. Larry had hoped he was changed for better. He met that incredible physicist Feynman. His advisor, Jeremy Burgold, was very helpful. Larry was sad to leave behind his NYC family to return to Stanford. He would miss the East Coast, but home was inviting. Besides, he'd be back with California wines soon. Larry grinned at the thought.

Marcus had opened the door of the car, leaping inside. He jerked his car into reverse and floored it out of the gas station/diner. Larry gripped the car door, "Watch where you're going!"

Marcus ducked down, "Just shut up. Shut up."

Larry raised an eyebrow, "What did you do?"

"Nothing. Nothing that wasn't right. Just... shut up."

Larry noted Marcus' obviously agitated state. He began to worry and stiffened in his seat, "Marcus. Marcus tell me now."

"I..." Marcus gulped, "You tell no one, got it?"

Larry nodded, "Ok, I got it... just calm down."

"Don't tell me to calm down." Marcus said, keeping an eye on the back window.

"OK. freak out then, if that's more optimal." Larry sarcastically noted.

"There were two fags there. I kinda... i didn't mean to." Marcus said, his voice shaking.

"Marcus... what did you do?" Larry said horrified. He was in a car with possible murderer.

"I... I threw a bottle at one of them, and I didn't realize how hard, and he started to bleed. A lot. I just... I just turned and ran. Fuck... I mean, he had a boyfriend with him. I know we're after the sexual revolution bullshit, but come on! I don't need to see that!" Marcus yelled, "It's there goddamn fault, you know."

Larry shrank into his seat. He was terrified. It was a long way to Philadelphia. He blinked back tears. Marcus had killed someone. "Are you... are you Son of Sam?"

Marcus blinked. "What? fuck... no! I've never killed anyone. That guy was just bleeding, I promise. Nothing worse than what he'd get in a bar fight. Son of Sam... you're an idiot, Larry, you really are."

Larry shrugged, "Sorry... just, I'm a little shocked. You beat up some dude... and the murders, and the looting... I feel like the world is falling apart."

Marcus cracked his back, the song switching to Dancing Queen by Abba. For such a cheery song, it made the entire situation highly ironic and disturbing. Marcus looked back in the rear view mirror again. "You'll tell no one, got it?"

"Shouldn't we call an ambulance or something? Maybe tell the police?" Larry said, "I mean, that was assault."

Marcus pulled the car to the side of the road and grabbed Larry by the collar of his shirt. He brought Larry close to his face, breathing heavily, most likely still rushing from the adrenaline. "You," He said, "Will say nothing, or I will kill you. Got it? I'm driving you to this stupid lecture on your epsilon-"

"Upsilon."

"Shut up, Larry. Just... just be normal. Act cool. We're fine. Nothing happened. If you rat on me, I'll find you. You know I can run from cops."

Larry nodded, "Ok. Ok... I'll keep quiet, I promise."

Marcus threw LArry back and smiled, "Good. Good. Let's go. We're almost there. Just a few more hours."

The car moved back onto the road, driving off in the distance. Marcus was not caught. Larry kept his silence. He believed that Marcus would find him.

August 9th, 2005 - Los Angeles

"Hey Larry, this is the third nightmare you've had this week, are you alright?" Charlie asked, moving closer to the physicist, concerned.

Larry turned over in bed and nestled his head into Charlie's shoulder. "Just... thinking back to the worst summer of my life."

"Wanna talk about it?" Charlie said, gently stroking Larry's back and kissing the top of his head.

Larry immediately tensed up. Charlie whispered soothing words. Larry gulped, "I can't."

"What do you mean, you can't?" Charlie said, lifting up onto one arm.

Larry looked into Charlie's face, his curls messy from sleep. Larry sighed, "It was the summer of Sam... and the black out... my friend was kinda messed up, and I went on a horrible road trip. It's also the time I found out about my father's condition. It was just a crappy summer."

Charlie gently ran a hand through Larry's hair. He knew that when Larry was in his early twenties, his father had died of some type of cancer. His mother stuck around for a few years after that, but eventually dying of natural causes. Larry had always said she died of heart break. "Summer of Sam? Like the Spike Lee movie? Son of Sam stuff?"

Larry nodded, "David Berkowitz. I lived in New York city at that time, thesis work. The man absolutely terrified me. Thank God he was caught. I mean, the entire city was in an uproar. That whole dog talking thing... it sounds silly now, but then... we really thought Satan was killing people."

Charlie let out a deep breath, "I can't imagine."

"Good. You shouldn't have to imagine. You're not supposed to. You're supposed to remain in your classroom and never have to deal with that stuff."

Charlie lied down, his jaw clenching, "Larry. Don't do that."

"Oh Charlie, I don't mean it as if you couldn't handle it. You just shouldn't deal with

such fear in your life. Ever." Larry said.

Charlie noted that the tension wasn't leaving Larry's shoulders. Charlie leaned over and kissed Larry's shoulder. "Larry - I've seen a lot already. You don't have to protect me."

"Yeah. I do." Larry said, his eyes taking a hazy look on as if he were remembering a sad memory.

Charlie gently shook him. "OK. We're making some tea and talking. Come on, get up."

"I can't talk about it, Charlie. I'm sorry."

"You can trust me."

"Trust isn't the issue. Just forget it. Please." Larry plead. "Just hold me tonight, tell me everything is fine, and things will be infinitely better in the morning."

Charlie's eyes seemed to pierce him and LArry ducked his head. Charlie did as he was asked, "Everything is fine, Larry. Just go to sleep. Things will be infinitely better in the morning."

Larry smiled and relaxed. He knew it was a lie, and that Charlie was worried, but there's nothing he could do.

The next morning, Charlie sighed in frustration as he printed out more sheets of data. Don had been faxing things to Charlie now, since it was easier for both parties. Charlie stormed into the kitchen. "This guy is nuts. The legends make no sense. It's a collection of references, according to Don, of vintage references to the seventies. It just makes no sense. There are references to things centered near or in New York City, and then the rest are literally randomly spread through America... the seventies are the only connection. Who murders people based on the seventies?"

Larry shrugged, keeping his face down. "I don't know. Why LA? Why now? There are an infinite number of possibilities. Better let this one go."

Charlie raised an eyebrow, "You're acting strange this morning, Larry... nightmare still?"

Larry waved his hands, "No, No. I'm fine. Let me look at the cards he leaves behind. Maybe I can piece something together."

"Larry. You know, I was born in the seventies." Charlie said, "I know a bit about-"

"You don't know a thing about the seventies. Come let me look." Larry had poured himself some orange juice.

Charlie relented and brought the printed sheets over. "Tell me if you don't want to see the Crime scene photos."

"Charlie, how long have we been together?"

Charlie grinned, "A year and a half."

"And how often have I seen your crime scene photos?"

"Ok, Ok. Just warning you." Charlie handed the papers over.

They were all young college aged men. There were brief descriptions next to each identified body. Most were out gay men, or percieved gay men. Larry sighed. He began to look at the evidence, the cards. Each card had an image, a phrase... something attached to it. There were five cards, five victims. The first card had a black dog on it named Sam. The second had "A Star is Born" written on it. There was a picture of Annie Hall on the third card, with "the bronx is burning" written on another. The last card had a picture of the Star Wars poster. Larry sighed, "1977."

Charlie looked up, "What?"

"The cards. They're all from 1977. Apparently your murderer is recreating something from 1977." Larry said, "These are gruesome pictures, Charlie."

"Yeah, especially since they were done with bottles. Beaten to death by glass bottles. Such a strange weapon for a serial killer." Charlie shuddered.

His phone suddenly rang and Charlie smiled. It was Don. He put it on speaker phone, "Hey Don."

"Hey Charlie. You alone?"

"No, Larry is here." Charlie said.

"Hi Don." Larry said.

Don continued, "That's fine. We've got a new body, but I haven't gotten the pictures back. So i'll just tell you the facts for now before I can get those pictures to you. Sixth male. red hair, straight. Around age 23. His name is Jacob Reilly. He's same height and weight as the others. Died from a blunt object to the head. This one is different though. No card... per se."

Charlie cleared his throat, "No card? There's usually a card on the victims belly."

"I know," Don said, "There is, but carved with glass. It says 'Perfect except for Curly cue.' I don't know what it means, but hopefully you can come up with some sense of this."

Don's voice was tense. The murders were getting more and more brutal as they progressed. The community was in an outrage, especially the gay community. "Sound good? I'll fax over everything as soon as I can."

Charlie nodded, slightly disturbed by the latest murder. Charlie responded, "Got it. Bye Don."

"See you later, Charlie." Don said, hanging up.

Charlie looked up at Larry and rushed to him. Larry's face had lost all color, and he was stiff, shaking. Charlie tried to pull him into his arms, but Larry squirmed away. He turned, grabbed his jacket and raced from the house. Charlie ran, calling after Larry. Larry was already driving away in his car. Charlie called Don in concern.


	2. Chapter 2

ii.

Larry ran into his office. He looked around and sighed. He had to grab as much of his stuff as possible. He began with his notes, shoving them into a bag. He was frantic. It had to have been Marcus who was killing those poor men. All the clues led up to it, from the New York references to Marcus' nickname for him. He hadn't heard from Marcus in over ten years. The man used to show up, unannounced, to wherever Larry had lived at the time to remind him to keep his silence. Larry had thought, since Marcus had stopped visiting, that it was over and he could have a normal life. There were many reasons he lived alone, Marcus being one of them. Larry sighed, caught in a memory when Amita's voice shook him from it. "Larry? Larry, what're you doing?"

Larry turned and squirmed his face, like a child would when caught. "Amita, how are you? Can I help you with something?"

Amita extended her hand, indicating the mess in the office, "More so, can I help you?"

Larry sadly shook his head, "No. You can't."

"Something wrong?"

Larry began to pack again, "Nope. Just cleaning. Charlie isn't with me, he's at home. You can try his cell."

"I talked with Charlie just a minute ago." Amita said, walking in.

Larry's heart sunk. Of course Charlie would have said everything to Amita. They were best friends. Amita could get Charlie to talk about anything. Larry would be a liar if he said that he didn't harbor a little jealousy over their relationship. Larry turned, "Look - I'm not sure what Charlie told you-"

"He said you're scared. You look like you're scared. Running scared. Are you going to run from us?" Amita moved in further and Larry seemed to shudder.

"Listen, Amita, you don't know what this is about-"

"Because you won't come to us. Larry, we're your friends, Charlie your boyfriend." Amita tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear:a sign of nervousness.

Larry shrugged, "As well you should be, but try not to be. I've got to leave town for a few days..."

"How about I drive you to Don's. Maybe you can talk to him?" Amita offered.

"No!" Larry said, the terror slipping back into his voice, "No. I can't. I won't. I... no."

"Larry, what happened? You're scaring me now."

"Amita, please." Larry begged, "Just let me go."

Amita shook her head, "No. Just tell me from the beginning. You could even start with telling me what happened today."

Amita sat Larry down, the older physicist shaking. Larry shook his head, his eyes filling with unshed tears that he was trying to hide. Larry whispered, "You can't know."

"Ok, Larry, then just talk with me about what happened between you and Charlie today? Let's just sit here and talk."

Larry sighed and rubbed his face again. Regrettably, he was worrying Charles,

which he had never wanted. He turned to Amita, "Yes. Sit and talk... you're stalling."

"No." Amita said quickly, "I'm concerned over a friend."

"I don't doubt your concern - just your application of said concern. Who is coming? Did you call the police? You... I didn't do anything. You can't make me talk."

A new voice came from the doorway, "Talk about what, Larry?"

Larry turned to see Don, with Charlie looking concerned behind him. Larry stood up and backed away. "Don, I have always been thankful for your presence in my life up until right now..."

Charlie cleared his throat, "What's going on Larry? What do you have to do with the case?"

Larry began to shake again, "I can't..."

Don moved forward, his training kicking in. It had taken a long time for Don to accept Charlie and Larry's relationship. Don had eventually decided that it was alright, and he had accepted Larry as a new brother. If someone was going to hurt Larry, then Don would make

sure that person would regret it. Don slowly walked up to Larry, "Larry. You know me. You

know my abilities. I'm only here to help, and I need you to trust me."

"I do trust you, Don. It's... it's someone else I don't trust." Larry whispered.

Charlie wanted to run to his loved one. He looked so small, frail, and Charlie hated to admit it, but old. Where was his young, beautiful love? Don was talking again. "Larry. If you know anything, you need to come down and help us. Help us get this guy."

Larry shook his head, "At the risk of sounding undeniably cliche... I can't. He'll kill me."

"What do you know about our killer?"

"If you don't leave me alone, Don, I'll be your next body." Larry said, his voice showing how frustrated he was getting.

"More reason to get you to safety. If we catch him, you and I both know that a lot of people will be safer."

Larry finally backed up into a wall. "Don, please understand. I can't. If he knew I was talking to you... he'd kill me, just like all of those boys. Arrest me if you must. I know what the cards mean. I know who it is. This is why I must remain silent."

"Who has scared you so much that other people's lives mean nothing to you?" Don's new tactic cut Larry, and worked.

"OK. ok... but safety. I need to be promised absolute safety. I... I don't want that Witness Protection Program stuff."

Don nodded, "We'll get you a safe house. I'll make sure its the best of the best. Just tell us everything you know."

"The murders are for me. They're all for me. I... I witnessed a murder thirty years ago." Larry looked at his feet as Charlie gasped. He had no idea that Larry was harboring such secrets.

Don placed his hands on Larry's shoulders, "You did the right thing, Larry."

"I hope so because if you're wrong... I'm dead."

Larry and Don moved towards Don's SUV. Don told Charlie to head home and wait for the faxes. Charlie looked sadly as he and Larry exchanged a glance. Amita placed a hand on Charlie's shoulder. "Come on," She said, "I'll drive you home."

"I should follow Don and Larry. I need to be with Larry right now." Charlie said.

Amita smiled and said, "How about we grab a movie and some popcorn, and we wait instead?"

Charlie looked up at Amita, frightened. "I can't watch a movie right now... Larry-"

"Cannot be helped by you, Charlie. Come on. It'll be kettle corn." Amita smiled, letting Charlie know that she'd take care of him until word from Larry came about.

Charlie smiled, recognizing her intention. "Make it ice cream, and you've got a deal."

"You really are just a big girl, aren't you?" Amita teased. "Let's go. My treat."

Charlie shoved a giant spoon of double choco chunk into his mouth and pointed at the television, "Completely improbable. That cannot happen."

"Charlie. It's a flying luck dragon. They don't exist, so by the proof of Falcor existing, we must assume that all of your assumptions about Falcor are incorrect. Therefore, Atreyu really can fall asleep and stay on."

Charlie shook his head, wincing slightly at the oncoming brain freeze. "No. It's absolutely impossible, especially with their angle and the flipping thing."

"The flipping thing?" Amita said, trying hard to keep the ice cream in her mouth due to her laughing.

"Falcor's rotating. You know what I mean." Charlie mock glared, before spinning the portable phone in his hand again.

Amita noted how Charlie's focus was returning to the phone in his hand. She quickly changed the topic, "So, how probable is the Nothing?"

Charlie raised his hands, "Oh, lets not get me started! According to Larry, it represents anti-matter and the ratio of expansion of the universe in black holes doubling, therefore creating - well - destroying, really, all matter."

Charlie swallowed hard. Larry still was with Don. Charlie looked at his ice cream, swirling it around, "Amita... do you... do you think these murders really are for Larry? He said he witnessed a murder. He's kept that quiet for thirty years - enough to make someone crazy."

Amita tucked a leg beneath her, "I don't know Charlie, and overthinking it will drive you crazy. I know you, remember."

Charlie smiled, "I'm glad you're here. I'm glad we remained friends."

Amita grinned, "Me too, Charlie. I mean, I've known that you've liked Larry for a while, and I think dating me way back then... well it was the kick you needed to realize that you and Larry were meant to be."

"I never meant to hurt you." Charlie said quietly, "You're my best friend, and it kills me that I hurt you."

Amita smiled, "That's sweet, but you can forgive yourself. Besides, I got really popular after dating you."

Charlie looked up shocked and laughed. It was semi-true. She was referring to having her picture taken with Charlie for Time magazine when they presented their time continuum theory together. Amita was a fantastic student, and even had an advisee of her own now. She worked in the computer science department. Charlie said quietly, "Thanks for being here."

"Thanks for being you, Charlie. I lucked out when I came to CalSci." Amita said honestly.

Charlie cleared his throat, the emotions catching him again, "So... So... How's your boyfriend?"

Amita grinned, looking much like a small girl, "James is fine. More than fine. He's fantastic. And most likely wondering where I am."

Charlie laughed, "He'd kill me for kidnapping you like this."

Amita pointed at Charlie with her Mint Oreo filled spoon, "Well James can deal. You need me."

"Yeah because I didn't have a ride home." Charlie said, his smile crooked.

Amita huffed and threw her pillow at the Mathematician. She stood up and took her phone out, "I should call though. Be right back."

Charlie nodded and turned his head back to the movie. By the time Amita had returned, Charlie was fast asleep.

Larry hadn't stopped shaking and Don's anger had increased tenfold. Larry had been in there lives for as long as he could remember. The eccentric man had at one time been a great annoyance to him. It had disturbed him that someone who had helped raise Charlie was now dating him. Charlie wasn't normal, and frankly, nor was Larry. Don tried again, "Larry... normally, you witholding the name of the murderer is illegal. You're safe, I promise."

"You don't understand. When he dropped me off... It was terrible, and because of it, I missed Richard. I didn't get to see him again until Challenger!" Larry exclaimed.

Don nodded, "Feynmen must've been very important to you."

Larry nodded, "He was a gentle man, and I respect him. He'd never have let something like... the man I drove with to happen to him."

Don quirked an eyebrow, "Larry. Tell me exactly what happened once you reached Philadelphia."

Larry turned white and began to tell his story.

August 1977 - Philadelphia

Marcus pulled into a rest stop. Larry had remained silent for the entire trip. He was currently curled in a ball, asleep. Marcus laughed and grabbed the yankees cap from Larry's head. Larry woke up, blinking and stretching his muscles. They were quite sore. Marcus said to him, "Get out. Were in Philly - want something from the store?"

Larry looked at the convenient store, flashing back to earlier that day. Marcus was a murderer, possibly. Murder. Larry rolled the word around in his head. Marcus rapped him hard on the top of the head, "Hello... spacy physicist... Ground control to major tom..."

Larry squirmed away, "Ok Ok, stop... lets just go. I just want to go to the conference and go home."

The two walked towards the door, Marcus trying the handle first. It was locked. "Shit, they're closed."

Larry shrugged, "Let's go, then."

"Why are you in such a hurry?" Marcus said, "You're not going to tell anyone, are you?"

"No. I promise." Larry said, looking at his feet.

Marcus grabbed Larry and threw him against the wall of the convenient store, "Not a soul, right?"

Larry shook slightly, "Yeah, man, I promise! No one!"

"Or else what?"

"You'll kill me. I get it. Let go of me, please!" Larry begged.

Marcus let go of Larry and the two walked to the car. Marcus paused at the hood of the car and grabbed the young physics student. Larry barely had a chance to yell before Marcus began to beat on him. The entire time during the assault, Marcus yelled out, "Tell no one. You promised. You break your promise, I'll kill you."

After Marcus was done, he leapt into his car, threw Larry's bag out, and drove away. Larry crawled to a payphone, calling an ambulance. He'd keep his silence. The sirens were all he heard, mixed with the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack blaring on the parking lot radio, right before he passed out.

tbc...


	3. Chapter 3

iii. LA. FBI Offices. Present Day.

Larry had drawn into himself, answering quietly. He had stopped shaking. Don knew this was second stage shock. Don tried again, "Larry, So you went to the hospital. I need you to tell me how this all relates."

"He killed that man, and I believe he's the serial you're looking for. I never thought he'd kill again, other than me, I promise you that, Don." Larry said, "It just seemed unlikely."

Don was having a hard time following Larry's logic. "Did you see him kill the man in the store?"

Larry shook his head, "No. He just wasn't sure... he told me. I found out later that the man had died."

"What were your injuries?" Don asked.

Larry looked away embarassed. "Just beat up. He ended up fracturing a shoulder of mine when I hit the pavement, and lots of stitches, but nothing bad."

"Sounds bad to me, Larry." Don was crouched on his knees, trying to get eye contact with Larry. His exterior was cool and one of concern, while inside boiled a rage for whomever had done this to Larry.

Larry shrugged, "I... I didn't tell anyone because I really thought he would kill me. I mean, he kept showing up at inopportune times to remind me of my promise. Don, I

would've broke the silence earlier, but in my age... you begin to doubt certain things."

"Doubt that it all happened? I need to know it happened."

"It did happen, but I'd try to forget, and I did for a while. Marcus would then show up." Larry said, "and destroy everything."

"Marcus was your driver that day, the guy who is murdering."

Larry froze up, realizing his slip, "You tricked me!"

"It's ok, Larry. You know that you can trust me." Don looked into Larry's face, "You know that I've got your best interest at heart."

Larry inhaled deeply, "Marcus is not going to stop until I'm dead."

"Then let's catch him."

Larry shut his eyes, and began to say things he hadn't spoken of in thirty years. "Marcus McClintock. He is my age. He's 6'1, with brown hair, that was always messy. Brown eyes. He was an art history and something else major at NYU. He left college after a few months into the semester after the... trip. I ended up leaving back for California... This isn't necessary. Can we just say it was Marcus and have me go home?"

"We need to catch him first, Larry. David is on his way to picking up Charlie right now."

Larry's eyes filled with tears that refused to be shed, "Don't make me leave him. I need him right now."

"I won't. He's going into the program with you. Our guy has been killing couples. You and Charlie are a couple. He'll be here soon, and I promise you, Larry, I will do everything in my power to stop this guy. You're family now." Don said, speaking from his heart.

Larry's jaw dropped and he finally let his tears run. Thirty years of fear makes one exhausted. Don squeezed Larry's shoulder, "You need to listen to me, ok? I know you were frightened, still are, but we will catch him. It's very brave to come forward like this. I can't imagine how traumatizing everything must have been."

Larry nodded, "I just... thought everything was over."

Don nodded. David had poked his head into the room. He cleared his throat and said, "Charlie is..."

Charlie pushed by him, rushing to Larry. "Here." Finished David.

Larry was immediately taken into the arms of Charlie, who stroked his back, whispering private messages meant to sooth the older man. Larry croaked out, "They're making us go away. Go into hiding."

"I know, love, I know. David clued me in. Are you alright? Of course not, what a stupid question. I'm sorry... what I mean is..." Charlie rambled before Larry covered his mouth with his hand.

"I'm fine, Charlie," Larry said, "I'll be better once we're safe and this is over. I'm sorry I got you involved."

"I'm not. I get to be with you this way."

"At what cost?" Larry said, "None of those men would have died if it weren't for me."

Charlie backed up for a second, shocked, "You can't really believe that."

"Is it so unbelievable. If I hadn't kept silence for decades..."

"Lawrence Nicholas Fleinhart! Stop it. I won't have you thinking this murderer's deeds are your own. It makes no logical sense, and as much as I tease you for being illogical, this really is beyond you." Charlie said softly.

Larry shrugged, "I should've told someone."

Don joined in at this time, "Larry, a lot of people in your position would have and still do the same. You were twenty-three. You had never been alone in your life. From what I've heard, Son of Sam was enough to terrify someone, and here you were in a car trapped with a sociopath. One who hated gay people and assaulted you. I'm surprised you've succeeded this far in your life. Most people don't make it this far."

Charlie grinned. He loved how amazing Don was. He truly looked up to him. Don had a difficult time accepting Larry and his relationship. It gave him so much happiness to see Don, in full FBI boss man mode, caring for Larry. Charlie looked up at his brother, attempting to portray all of his thanks and admiration in his smile, "Don, thank you."

Charlie turned back to Larry, taking the older man's hands. "We'll be fine. If anything, we'll get the FBI to pay for cable and we can just watch cheesy movies and be together. We'll do this together."

Larry gulped and nodded, "Thank you... all of you. I wish I could be of more help."

Don smiled, "You gave us a name, and we'll soon have a case. You turned this guy in, Larry. Now let us do our job and get him."

David cleared his throat again, entering. He looked at the family and smiled. The entire Eppes family, extended included, were incredible important to the entire Team. This Marcus guy was messing with the wrong group of people. "The transport is ready. The Safe house is the best. You'll love it."

Charlie helped Larry up. "Hear that? It's the best one."

Larry managed a smile. "I hope so. I only will accept five star accommodations."

Don laughed and led them out.

August 1977 NYC

Larry gingerly moved his things back into his apartment. His family had barely been kept at bay. The police had come, and Larry had given a false description, saying that he didn't really see the guy. He was in his home now, but he didn't feel safe. Son of Sam had been caught. It was a man named David Berkowitz. The joke shows all called him Berserk-owitz. Larry had enough of the crazy types in his life. He vowed to never speak to anyone ever again. That had lasted a whole two minutes since he needed to talk to the head desk receptionist for his mail.

Once inside the apartment, Larry shut and locked the door. He vowed to get deadbolt locks next time he ventured out of his home. He picked up a vase and quickly went room by room, checking for Marcus. Apparently Marcus wasn't going to leap out of

any closets like the movies. With a grumbling stomach, Larry started dinner.

The apartment was too quiet. He shivered and limped towards his radio 8 track, pushing in the Abba cartridge. He sighed as the music filled the small apartment. Larry quickly changed, putting on clean jeans and his favorite polyester shirt. He needed to feel good tonight, and staying in would be just that. While he waited for his dinner, Larry pulled out his notes that Feynman had given him their last meeting. It was well after midnight, dinner cold, that Larry stopped reading. The physics absorbed him and seemed to make things matter and balance. Marcus was just another equation in the universe to ponder. Soon Marcus would be just a bad memory, and hopefully to be forgotten. School started again on Monday. All Larry had to do was focus on his studies. That's it. Nothing had happened this past week. Everything was fine. Physics was all there was to life.

Undisclosed Location. Somewhere in California. Present time.

Larry looked around the apartment. Charlie was cheerfully moving in behind him, attempting to make this safe house seem lighter in mood than it was. It wasn't that Larry didn't appreciate the young mathematician's intentions, he just didn't reciprocate them. He picked up a vase and began walking room to room. Charlie cleared his throat, "You know this place has been cleared by FBI... right?"

Larry put down the vase, foolishly, "Sorry."

Charlie smiled, "Don't be sorry. We're safe. Finally, you're safe, Larry."

Larry shrugged, "That's an issue to be debated."

Charlie put their bags down and walked to Larry, wrapping his arms around his torso. "Hey, stop that, ok? You're older now, wiser, stronger. You don't have to be bullied any more. You won't get assaulted again. You'll never see Marcus again."

"I don't know that. He's a smart boy... man. I guess he's a man now. My age...

killing." Larry rambled, biting his thumb.

Charlie pulled Larry's thumb from his mouth. "Larry. I know you're frightened, but think of how much you've grown since 1977. You came clean. You did the right thing."

"All those years, Charles... wasted." Larry muttered.

"I don't think so. You wouldn't be who you are today if it weren't for those years, so I don't think they were wasted."

Larry scrunched his nose. "I'd be a better person. Secrets can kil a person."

"You're free now of those secrets. Let Don do his job. He does it well. Besides, I'm sure I could find some way to apply certain algorithms-"

"No. Charlie, I've had you involved enough. Just... just solve me. Not them, not him, not the crimes... just be here with me." Larry asked, his eyes wide.

Charlie could see the twenty-three year old peeking out. He was frightened, hurt and confused. Charlie squeezed harder. Larry returning the hug. Larry pulled back, "If we're going to be stuck here for some unknown amount of time, lets at least see what we can get with our free cable."

Charlie pulled back and kissed Larry, deeply as if it were his way to physically express his emotions of support and love. Larry kissed back, channeling his fear. They moved to the couch, leaving the packing for later, and fell into each other's arms, watching together.

tbc...


	4. Chapter 4

iv. LA FBI OFFICES present times

"Listen up people!" Don yelled across the bullpen, his voice filled with a masked rage, "We've got another murder on our hands and two people in hiding. We've a profile, and a name. We will get this man."

Don pointed at David, "David, put up the pictures."

As David put the mug shots up, the FBI Team glimpsed for the first time the man who had terrorized their consultant's boyfriend for almost thirty years. His hair was greying at the temples, and his beard and hair were a large mess. The man's eyes were dark, and void of emotion. Don sighed as he stared at the perp. The image of this man was enough to disturb him, he couldn't imagine what Larry was thinking as a young man on his own. Don pointed at Marcus' picture. "This is Marcus McClintock. He is a fifty year old white male. Originally from New York City. These murders are believed to be a continuation of the 1977 murder of John Winsepp. He stalks gay couples and murders them using blunt objects, with a preference for glass objects. He prefers young college age men, who are average height and weight, but with red to blonde hair. He's been focusing around the LA area for Larry Fleinhart, professor of physics at Calsci. As one notes, There have been three CalSci alumni murdered. Full reports are in the files everyone has. We have McClintock's address but he's moved out. We're considering him armed and dangerous despite not using any weapons. Questions?"

An agent raised her hand, "Do we have a car, license plate? Approximate location?"

Don shook his head, "There is a car registered to his ex wife, but we currently have no idea if she has it or if he does. We're attempting to contact her as we speak. License plate is..." Don sighed, "4gr8tkidz."

David shook his head. "That's just disturbing," He muttered.

David took over at this point and split the large group into teams, to search the LA area for the car. Two agents, one of them Terry's replacement, went to talk with the four kids, wondering if they've seen their father at all. Don sat down, rubbing his face. They had all the leads, they had a warrant for Marcus' arrest. The only problem was that they didn't have Marcus. He was apparently very good at hiding. David spoke up, hoping that some encouraging words would clear Don's head, "Listen, Don. We've got everything on this guy. We just need to figure out who he'll strike next."

"Well, we're lucky enough that McClintock doesn't know that Larry and Charlie are in hiding. He doesn't know that we know who he is." Don pointed out.

"Do you think he's watching Larry? He might notice that Charlie and Larry are missing."

"I hope not, David. that'll change all of his behavior. With his MO, he might increase the killings."

"Displaying his frustration for Larry being taken away. How much do you think Larry has played into this?" David asked, moving to sit beside Don.

Don looked up shocked, "Larry had no prior knowledge to these murders, David. Are you implying that Larry is an accomplice in some way?"

"No, Don, absolutely not, but how much does Larry's existance, and what he knew, plays into McClintock's plan. I think that McClintock, obviously obsessed with this first murder, is using Larry as a focus. A test almost. Larry is his obsession, and without Larry in his sight, I think we should expect a more public reaction."

Don's eyebrows furrowed, "You think he's going to send us a message of some sort? Maybe another kill... close to home?"

David nodded, "It makes sense. McClintock seems the type. Remember, after scaring the hell out of Larry, he beat him pretty badly. Larry wasn't exactly truthful about the hospital stay."

Don tilted his head, intrigued. "How so?"

"When we pulled the records, we discovered that Larry's injuries were much more extensive then a few sprains and a broken nose. His leg had a spiral fracture, most likely from turning so quickly to flee McClintock's assault. He was in that hospital for three days."

Don took another aggravated breath, "I swear to God, David. You better be with me when I find this guy, because I'm going to kill him if I'm alone."

David nodded, "You'll have to get in line. There's an entire FBI staff team ready."

A woman stuck her head into the room, looking at Don. "Agent Eppes, we've a location."

Both men stood up, grabbing their coats. "Where to?" Don asked.

"He's actually been in Pasadena the entire time. We've reports of Marcus walking in the Meridian Park area." She responded, handing them the report.

Don smiled, and looked at David, "We're getting him ourselves, let's go."

undisclosed location. present time.

Charlie smiled as he fed Larry a bite of the spaghetti. Larry laughed and wiped his face, amused by how Charlie had managed to drip sauce everywhere. "Charles, as much as I appreciate your parental treatment, I must insist to at least feed myself."

"Feeding the one you love is sexy. Amita said so." Charlie pointed out, "She said it shows love and caring and that it really makes girls feel pampered."

Larry raised an eyebrow, "I don't know what you've been pretending this past year, but I'm definitely not a woman to be pampered."

Charlie chuckled, "Yes, I know you're not a woman, but that doesn't mean you wouldn't like to be pampered once in a while."

"On that point, not all women want to be pampered. In fact, some find the idea offensive."

Charlie set his fork down. "Fine. I'll just refill your wine glass, get you drunk and have my way with you."

Larry smiled, "That's more like it. Leave it to you, Charles, to make a safehouse and running for my life seem like a romantic vacation."

"It'd be a vacation if the cable worked." Charlie pointed out.

Larry shook his head, "You and the cable. I never knew you were such a couch potato, Charles."

"Wouldn't you love to see Merrick's face once he realized he was paying for gay porn?" Charlie said, shoving a mouthful of spaghetti into his own mouth.

Larry smiled, "It'd be priceless."

Charlie finished his plate, putting it away. He walked over, looking nervous and serious. He rubbed his hands together. Larry looked up and the glimmer in his eye flickered. "Something wrong, Charles?"

Charlie nodded, "Yes... well no. The thing is... I know you probably don't want to talk about it more but... how did you go for so long pretending nothing happened?"

Larry rubbed his knees and looked down. "Charles... It's very complicated. I mean, I regret it so much. I've hurt so many..."

Charlie lifted Larry's head and looked him in the eye, "My intention wasn't to make you start blaming yourself again. I just want you to talk to me, perhaps use me as a sound board. You haven't had anyone to talk to in thirty years."

Larry gave a crooked smile, "I told everything to my lava lamp."

"You had a lava lamp?" Charlie said, "Weren't those a bit... trendy for your tastes?"

Larry shrugged, "Reminded me of plasma and fluid dynamics."

Charlie nodded, understanding, and Larry was greatful for that. Charlie understood his small eccentricities. Charlie spoke again, "No really... when you got back to New York... started classes at the end of August... what happened?"

Larry took a deep breath, "I left for California at the end of August, but that month alone was... lonely, and frightening. I felt isolated, except for my books. Mind you, my thesis benefitted greatly from that horrific summer, but I don't think I did."

New York City. Mid august, 1977.

Larry peeked out his window, pulling back the crocheted curtains. He sighed and shut them. He couldn't live in fear forever. He was leaving in two weeks, to never return to New York. He had just recieved the worst phonecall of his life. His father came down with some illness. It had a long name, but was what everyone called Lou Gehrig's Disease. Larry bit his thumb nail in concern. His father was his strongest friend. He couldn't die. The library had very little on the subject, but enough to confirm to Larry that leaving his apartment was a terrible idea, and he should just accept the fact that he was going to live the rest of his life in a small studio apartment.

Larry shook his head and grabbed an album from the wall, popping in Hotel California. As Don Henley's voice came over, Larry shut his eyes. This was one of his favorite albums. Henley wrote about innocence, struggle, meaning of life... things lost.

Larry walked to his books again. They were scattered across the apartment, surrounded by half eaten meals. His studies really had improved. He could feel the theories in his head, melding together. Larry's shoulders began to relax as he thought more and more on his theories. He knew that the real world was just outside of his double bolted door, and was just behind his curtains that barely blocked the sunlight, but he'd rather have his face covered. The proverbial ostrich with his head in the sand. Larry preferred it that way. It was better than his still sore body. It was better than the horrific memories. It was better than returning home to perfect California to find his father's body breaking, and his mother's overwhelming sadness. He'd have to take care of her, because she'd die without her husband.

Larry finally couldn't concentrate on his books anymore. He threw them down and covered his face. "Listen Lawrence." Larry said to himself, "You forget everything and move on! Objects move until they are stopped by an equal or greater force. Well Marcus is not an equal or greater force. He is not a force. He's gone. Now, move."

Larry didn't and spent the rest of his time deep in thought, the Eagles album skipping occasionally, but lulling him and his confused feelings.

tbc...

Don't worry, it's almost to an end.


	5. Chapter 5

V.

If the Cheshire Cat had homicidal tendencies due to overprotectiveness of family members, for instance if the Queen of hearts were to hurt the Cheshire Cat's family in any way, he would smile not unlike how Don was glaring down on Marcus McClintock in the interrogation room. Marcus looked up at Don and pointed, "Aren't you in the least bit disturbed over your brother's choices? I'm fixing the problem."

Don sneered, "Save it, McClintock. We're going to put you away for years, life if possible, and perhaps they'll allow me to put the needle in your arm."

Mcclintock laughed, "you wouldn't."

"You're right, I'd prefer execution style shooting." Don hissed, smacking McClintock in the back of the head.

David looked on from outside. Perhaps it wasn't such a good idea to have Don get information out of McClintock. In addition to the murders all being linked by DNA evidence, they had Larry tying him to the 1977 murder. The only hitch was that a couple had gone missing last night. One gentlemen was found, barely recognizable, the other partner was still missing. Don's voice darkened, if possible, "I refuse to believe this has to do with gay men, McClintock. You're not doing this just to show your political bullshit. You're after someone. You're doing this to scare someone."

McClintock leaned back in his chair, "And who do you think that is? Human kind, no matter who they are, plague this planet. I hate them all, especially those that go against nature."

"Lawrence Fleinhart." Don said quietly, watching for McClintock's reaction.

McClintock's face seemed to go stone cold and his lip snarled. "Larry. You have him, don't you? That's why he and your brother haven't been around lately. Larry told... I didn't do anything. He is the one who did it."

Don rolled his eyes, "Now that, I know is a lie."

"Then how come it took thirty years to tell you? How come he never told a soul?" McClintock said, his voice getting angrier.

Don laughed, "Listen to me, McClintock, I know it was you in the mart that day. We've other witnesses as well. We're the FBI. We're thorough."

McClintock looked at Don, his eyes chillingly calm, "You know where they are?"

"Larry? Charlie? or all those men you killed? Let's start with Kenny, the man's body we haven't found yet. How about you give me kenny, and I talk to the DA a bit more."

McClintock glared, "I'll give you kenny for Larry."

Don's eyes glared, "Nice try. No."

"Kenny will have to die then. Tell good old Larry it's his fault. All Curly-cue's fault." McClintock started to laugh again.

Don shook his head as David opened the interrogation room door. "We found another body, hasn't been a positive ID, but we think it's Kenny. It was in his ex-wife's car. The 4gr8tkidz one."

Don turned to McClintock and smiled, "Have a nice time in jail, McClintock."

He then patted the veins in his arms, miming a lethal injection. McClintock lost all the color in his face as Don left the room with David. The second they were out of ear shot, Don punched the wall. "I hate that man. It took so much to not reach across the counter and just... attack him."

David nodded, "I know, I was about to send Spencer in to make sure you didn't lose your cool. You know you really freaked McClintock out."

Don nodded, "All part of the job. Want to ride with me to the safe house? Tell the good news?"

David nodded, "Sounds great, Don, let's go."

September 1977 California

Larry walked around his new apartment. He had just come in from playing a game of basketball, and was pulling off his knee socks. He bounced the ball a few times, still looking at the world passively. Larry threw the ball onto his bed and rubbed his face with both hands. He was back home. It was nice. His parents had been fantastic to see, and his father looked great. He ran into his old friends and professors, whom he had the basketball game with. They were concerned about his hospital stay, but Larry didn't let that stop his playing, although he didn't run...well at all during the game.

He looked at his wall of posters, filled with everyone from Johnny Travolta, to Abba, to Feynman again. He thought to that horrible summer and promised himself that the rest of the summer would go well. Larry turned to stare at the prism hanging from his window. He looked at the colors splashing across the apartment and thought of the future. One day, he'd get over this. One day, Marcus would no longer be in his thoughts. One day he'd fall in love, lead a normal life, be a famous physicist or a teacher. Maybe he'd be the next Feynmen, or find some other prodigy genius to fall in love with. Larry smiled. He wasn't in New York, and one day he'd no longer be afraid. He just had to survive until then, enjoying what he had.

the end. It's finished? How about that.


End file.
